


Distorted

by Darknessdeville



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Asylums, Coping mechanism, Depression, Gen, Hospitals, Love, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Sad, drug overdose, drug use reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23110690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darknessdeville/pseuds/Darknessdeville
Summary: What if the fantastical world Howard and Vince so happily lived was built on tragedy
Relationships: Howard Moon/Vince Noir
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Distorted

**Author's Note:**

> An idea I had that the magical place the Boosh lived was the minds creation to cope with loss and tragedy.  
> Be kind, I am not a very good writer! But I hope you all enjoy it.

The colors were always so bright. Brighter than they sometimes would briefly shift to. The shapes were finer. The days more fantastical. And the music was always in tune no matter how silly the words. Everything was better there. Happy there. Vince never wanted to leave that place. His happy place. His reality. 

It was a place where he had the perfect hair and fans swooned as the wind blew it. A place where fantastic creatures roamed freely and talked. They would tell Vince their stories or he would share jokes. The laughs were endless. The banter funny. And he would dance the night away with a flirtini in hand. 

The most important thing was Howard. He and Howard would crimp in unison, without ever missing a beat. Why just that morning they crimped about a genius pair of knee high socks. It was amazing. He was always happiest with Howard. Singing their songs, or remembering the times at the zoo. 

Sometimes his heart would skip a beat when Howard would smile at him with beady eyes. He have to look away and hide his blush. He was too nervous to let his friend know he fancied him. Wanted him. Loved him. He couldn't risk losing him. Never. But sometimes, in the still of night, he would creep into Howard's bed and snuggle close. At first it would be under the guise of a storm. The next a bad dream about the jungle. And finally no words were spoken, Howard would simply scoot over and the next morning continue his no touching rule. 

This was heaven. There was no place Vince would rather be then his happy, colorful, world with Howard and their friends.

Sometimes though, he would hear distant echoes, voices, far off, calling to him. He hated these voices. They wanted to pull him away from his home. His friends. He would cover his ears to block it out but then the colors would begin to change. Howard would look on, puzzled, or sometimes just smile and say it was ok little man, as though he knew something Vince didn't. He would grab on to Howard until the voices stopped, or the colors quit distorting. He would bury his face in his chest, shaking and asking Howard to make it stop. To make it go away. He would hold Vince until everything went back to normal and Howard would continue on as though nothing happened at all. 

But sometimes, it didn't stop. Sometimes the colors and shapes began to distort into dull and tedious shapes and shades. He would reach for Howard, but he was far away. Vince would run to him but he was always just out of reach, if not gone all together. Naboo and Bollo nowhere to be seen. Everything would start to fall apart. He would scream and cry until a painfully bright light would fill his vision. He would find himself in a chair, or sometimes a bed. Everything very white and sterile. A hospital. He would feel very tired and confused, not certain why or how he was there.

Fuzzy outlines of people would come into view, standing over him, or kneeling down to where he sat. Sometimes they would smile, sometimes serious expressions. The voices were the last thing to become clear. It was all to distant and distorted. 

"Howard?" He would ask but be met with a sad shake of the head before being wheeled off or poked and prodded.

"Mr. Noir, how are you feeling today? The nurse says you haven't been eating" he could hear a man in a white coat ask as he took notes on a clipboard. 

Well that wasn't right. Howard had made him tea and cakes for a snack just that afternoon.

"I had..I had food earlier. Jaffa cakes" he replied, voice more hollow than he remembered.

"And where did you get jaffa cake, Vince?"

He replied, studying Vince's now hollow face.

"Howard made them. With tea. I had quite a few. It was genius." He said, recalling the sweet flavor.

"Vince, you did not have jaffa cakes. You have not eaten in two days. We will have to tube feed you if this continues" the doctor said, placing his pen and paper down and putting his hands together.

"What you on about?? Nurses and not eating?? I did eat. S'what it were sweets? Howard said it was alright since.." he could feel himself getting upset as he tried to stand but the doctor placed a hand on his knee, urging him to stay.

"Vince, we have talked about this. Howard isn't here. You are in inpatient care. You haven't been anywhere else in quite some time." He said, as kindly as he could. Vince just looked on puzzled. Hearing but not understanding. 

"I was hoping to see improvement on this regimen but we will have to up your medication. See if the increase will make you feel any better"

"Get stuffed I don't want medicine an i'feel fine. Where is Howard?? He will straighten this out" 

"We have gone over this already Vince. Many times. You know where Howard is" the doctor replied making a note on his pad before turning back to Vince.

"Where is Howard?" The doctor asked, quite seriously.

Vince suddenly felt panic setting in. His empty stomach knotting up with fear and uncertainty. 

"He was here earlier. But not here. This..this isn't right...this.." he could feel tears building in his eyes. 

"Where is Howard, Vince?" He asked again.

"Hes..he's at the Nabootique. We was both there before..before the voices.." he began looking around wildly from his wheelchair, before he suddenly realized he could not move his arms. They were trapped. Bound within a jacket. He looked up confused and pleadingly to the doctor. 

"Why..why am I in this? This is well out of fashion! Where is Howard? He will.." Vince struggled to move his arms.

"Mr. Noir, you know where he is. You were there. We have talked about this." The doctor interjected.

The tears were beginning to spill

"No..I was with him earlier.." 

"Mr. Moon died years ago Vince. You were there. You were placed in care not long after. What you have experienced isn't real. It is in your head." 

He just stared as the doctor spoke. Breaking the news to him for who knows the how many times. 

It couldn't be true. He was in their flat with him just earlier. The crimps. The adventures. The band. The nights he would crawl into Howard's bed. It was all too real. 

"He suffered a drug overdose while you were both working for a zoo. You had not taken as much and woke up and found him. That was six years ago Vince. You've been here for five." 

He felt hollow. Voice coming in and out. He felt so lost and empty he could not even speak. Fractured images of Howard, a younger Howard, and he during their "weekend habit". Fractured images of waking next to Howard as he choked. Panic and fear, and helplessness. All he could do was watch. He could hear himself screaming his name. Shaking him. A downward spiral hereafter of insomnia, blame, anger, drugs, and self harm. All of it fading from view, the light overhead seemingly dimming as he blinked and stared at the doctor.

"You suffered a mental break afterward. You were young, Howard was the only family you had. You felt responsible. You felt alone. You couldn't cope." He continued as he flipped through pages on his board having picked it up back. 

"You former dealer..Naboo, he was called, brought you in after two suicide attempts. You have been here since that time." He finished in a manner seemingly rehearsed from previous visits that Vince could not recall.

Vince just remained slumped in his chair. Bound by jacket. Unmoved from the news. Tears stopped flowing as he felt himself slowly fading from the harsh light of the room. The colors were distorting again as he finally moved his gaze to the doctor.

"None of it has been real Vince. Just a fantasy to cope. But we will help you. I just need you to see it isnt real."

The colors were becoming brighter. Richer. The voice of the doctor distant. Jazz was playing from somewhere. He could move his arms again as he entered the Nabootique with that sunshine grin. Howard turned and smiled.

"Awright Howard"

The doctor smiled sadly and pulled a syringe from his coat. 

But Vince was far away now. Back in a flat. Back home. Back with Howard.


End file.
